


I Never Planned on Someone Like You

by TheJediAssassinGirl



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Andrew Keenan-Bolger’s Crutchie is the cutest, M/M, based on Newsies live, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJediAssassinGirl/pseuds/TheJediAssassinGirl
Summary: Jack Kelly swore never to fall in love, but that was before he met a beautiful boy with a sunny personality and a bum leg.





	I Never Planned on Someone Like You

Jack Kelly, the tough, stoic leader of the Manhattan newsies, didn’t put much stock in romance. He had no use for moonlight or sappy poetry. Those didn’t help him sell papers or stay alive. He snorted whenever one of the other boys mentioned love at first sight.

“Love at first sight’s for suckers,” he’d tell them. Sure, girls were nice, once or twice, but Jack would inevitably lose interest. Jack swore he’d never fall in love, and he was doing pretty good with that, until Race, his second-in-command, came running up to him one evening.

“Jack, there’s a kid outside who won’t leave us alone,” he reported.

“Alright, I’ll take care of him,” Jack said. He walked down to the front door of the lodging house and opened the door, intending to thrash whoever was out there. His heart skipped a beat. Standing on the front step was the most gorgeous boy Jack had ever seen. He was small and thin, with fluffy golden hair and beautiful green eyes. There was a splash of freckles across his pale face, which was covered in dirt. He supported himself with a wooden crutch, and he otherwise seemed pretty down on his luck, but he smiled like it was the best day of his life. Just in time, Jack remembered that he had to be the tough guy in this situation. He crossed his arms and glared at the boy.

“Whaddya want?” He demanded.

“I want a job,” the blond boy replied cheerfully. “I wanna sell papes with you guys.” Behind Jack, Race snorted.

“With a gimp leg?” He said incredulously. “Good luck!”

“Shut up, Race,” Jack snapped. “Here’s what we’s gonna do,” he told the boy. “We’ll have a trial run. You gotta home?” The boy shook his head. “Then you’ll stay here, at least for tonight,” Jack said. “Tomorrow, you’ll be sellin’ with me, an’ if you’s good enough, we’ll let ya stay an’ be one a us.”

“Alright!” The boy said. “Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t call me sir,” Jack said, trying not to sound unkind. The boy was so full of hope and optimism, and Jack didn’t want to crush that. “My name’s Jack Kelly. What’s yours?” The boy opened his mouth to respond, but Race cut in before he could speak.

“Think carefully,” he said. “You don’t get ta choose again. I’m Racetrack, by the way. I’m this ray a sunshine’s right-hand-man.” The boy thought for a moment, his head adorably tilted to the side.

“I’m Crutchie,” he said finally. “Crutchie Morris, at your service!”

“Nice ta meet ya, Crutchie,” Jack said. He spat on his hand and held it out for Crutchie to shake. Crutchie’s head tilted again as he looked at Jack with confusion, and Jack’s heart melted. “It’s how we do things around here,” he said quickly, trying to distract himself from how _goddamn cute Crutchie Morris was_. “Some a the new guys usually think it’s a little gross, but if you’s gonna be one a us, ya gotta get used ta it.” Hesitantly, Crutchie spat on his own palm and shook Jack’s hand. Jack allowed himself to smile for the first time since he’d come to the door. “I think you’s gonna be a natural,” he said. Crutchie’s confused look faded, replaced again by that bright, perfect smile. “Follow me,” Jack said, and Crutchie followed him into the lodging house. There was only one bed left: the bunk above Jack’s. Jack had defended that bed with his life. He’d hung blankets around the railing that surrounded the top bunk so the bottom bunk was like a private room. He was willing to give this all up for Crutchie, though. The kid was just so cute and there was no way in hell Jack was going to make him try and climb all the way up to the top bunk with a bum leg. That was cruel.

“Here ya go,” Jack said as they reached the bed.

“Oh! Thank you!” Crutchie said. “But I think you’ve made a mistake. I think someone’s already sleepin’ here.”

“Yeah, this’s been my bed for a while, but it’s yours now,” Jack said, starting to take down the blanket curtains.

“But I can’t take your bed!” Crutchie protested. “Not after what you’s doin’ for me!”

“You ain’t takin’ my bed, I’m givin’ it to ya,” Jack replied. “This bunk is the only one that ain’t taken, and I ain’t gonna make you climb up ta the top bunk. I ain’t that much a an asshole.”

“You ain’t an asshole at all,” Crutchie said. “You’s real nice.” Jack grinned, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, don’t tell,” he said. “You’ll ruin my reputation.” Crutchie giggled, and Jack was falling more in love with him every second.

“Alright, Jack Kelly,” Crutchie said. “I’ll keep your secret safe.”

“Good,” Jack said. He quickly made his own bed, then Crutchie’s. “Better get some sleep, kid. That circulation bell goes off real early.”

“Alright,” Crutchie said, burrowing underneath the blankets. He fell asleep quickly, but Jack strayed awake for a bit, watching him. Moonlight streamed in from the window, hitting Crutchie’s pale, freckled face. _God, he was so beautiful_. In that moment, Jack knew that we wouldn’t be able to keep his promise never to fall in love. He was already smitten.

 

Crutchie was a natural newsie, and not just because his crutch got him pity sales. Sure, passerby might approach him because of the crutch, but they bought papes from him because of his bright smile and charming personality. He could’ve easily made a killing in his own spot, but instead he stuck with Jack. Jack, who usually didn’t like sharing his spot, didn’t mind. He enjoyed seeing Crutchie as he greeted his regular customers morning after morning, asking them about their children and pets and stuff, and watching as they responded to him. He loved seeing that bright smile and hearing that beautiful laugh. He loved walking back to the lodging house with Crutchie every night, stopping at a bakery to get some food for themselves and the others. One night, Jack, who was a light sleeper, awoke to the sounds of quiet whimpering from the bunk below him. Peering over the railing, he saw Crutchie tossing and turning in his bed, tears running down his face. Immediately, Jack scrambled down the ladder, shaking Crutchie’s shoulder gently. Crutchie woke with a start, looking terrified.

“Hey, Hey,” Jack said. “It’s alright. I got ya. You’s alright.” Crutchie’s breathing was quick and frantic.

“Jack,” he whimpered.

“You’ll be alright, Crutchie,” Jack said, his voice low and soothing as he wrapped his arms around Crutchie. “Just focus on my breathing. Breathe in when I do, an’ out when I do.” Crutchie nodded, and his breathing eventually slowed. “Nightmare?” Jack asked. Crutchie nodded. “Want me ta stay with you?” Jack asked. Crutchie nodded again.

“Can ya talk ta me?” He asked, blushing a little.

“Talk ta you?” Jack asked. “Whaddya want me ta say?”

“I dunno,” Crutchie said. “I don’t care. I just need ta hear your voice, Jack. Please.”

“Alright, alright,” Jack said. He cast around in his brain for something to say, and his mind landed on a poem he’d heard Miss Medda recite once. It was sappy, but Jack was sure he could remember at least part of it. “Shall I compare thee ta a summer’s day?” He began. “Thou art more lovely an’ more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darlin’ buds a May, an’ summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” He went on like this until he glanced down and saw Crutchie sleeping against his chest, a peaceful smile on his face. Jack smiled too, and ever-so-gently kissed the top of Crutchie’s head.

“Sleep tight, Crutchie,” he whispered.

 

It had been a hard winter for the Manhattan newsies, but finally spring started to come to New York. Through hours of talking and questioning, Jack had managed to find out that Crutchie’s birthday was April 20th.

“It’s alright, though, Jack,” Crutchie had said. “Ya don’t gotta do anythin’ special. I’ve never really had a birthday celebration before. I really don’t need one.” This had just made Jack more determined to make Crutchie’s birthday amazing. Through more hours of gentle interrogation, he’d managed to get Crutchie to tell him that his favorite cake was chocolate with chocolate icing. He’d poured time and money, some of it his, some of it Miss Medda’s, into this plan, and now the day had come for him to execute it.

“Jack, where’re we goin’?” Crutchie asked for the hundredth time as Jack carried him on his back up the fire escape ladders.

“I wanna show ya somethin’,” Jack responded yet again. “You’ll see. Just be patient, alright?”

“It’s gettin’ late, Jack,” Crutchie said nervously. “Maybe we should get some sleep.”

“Aw, c’mon, Crutchie,” Jack pleaded. “Trust me, when you see what I wanna show ya, you ain’t gonna wanna sleep, trust me.” He reached the last ladder up to the roof and stopped. “Alright, now you gotta close your eyes,” he told Crutchie.

“Alright,” Crutchie said.

“They closed?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Crutchie replied. Jack climbed up the last ladder and gently set Crutchie down, draping Crutchie’s arm around his shoulders so that he could support his friend.

“Alright, you can open your eyes now,” he said. Crutchie did, and he gasped. They were on the roof of the lodging house, a place Jack had claimed as his own. Overhead, the stars twinkled like a glittering canopy, and below, the city lights sparkled like a glowing carpet.

“Wow…” Crutchie said. “Is this the penthouse? I thought the rest a us weren’t allowed ta come up here.”

“Not unless I invite ya,” Jack said. “An’ you’s permanently invited, Crutchie.” He helped Crutchie walk over to the mattress he’d set up. “You just sit tight for a minute here, alright?” He said.

“Jack, what’s goin’ on?” Crutchie asked.

“You’ll see,” Jack replied. “Just sit tight an’ don’t look.”

“Alright,” Crutchie said. He leaned back on the mattress, looking up at the stars. He heard the sound of a match being lit, and then Jack’s footsteps were coming towards him, Crutchie looked over, Jack was holding a small chocolate cake with chocolate icing. _Happy Birthday, Crutchie!_ was written on top in white letters, and there was a candle in the middle. Crutchie went pink as Jack started to sing “happy birthday,” setting the cake down on the mattress.

“Blow out the candle, Crutchie!” Jack said enthusiastically, once he’d finished singing. “Make a wish!” Crutchie closed his eyes and blew out the candle. Jack grinned and handed him a fork, and the two shared the cake together. “I… uh… I got somethin’ for ya,” Jack said as the last bits of icing were licked off of their fingers.

“Jack, you didn’t have ta get me anythin’,” Crutchie protested. “You worked hard ta earn that money, I don’t want ya wastin’ it on me!”

“I wanted ta get ya somethin’, though,” Jack said. “It ain’t a waste.” He gave Crutchie a small object wrapped in newspaper. Crutchie unwrapped it, revealing a brown newsboy cap. “Figured ya needed one if you’re gonna be one a us,” Jack said. “Go on, try it on!” Crutchie put the hat on his head. It fit perfectly. “Do ya like it?” Jack asked nervously, holding up a mirror so that Crutchie could look at his reflection.

“I love it,” Crutchie said, tears beginning to spill from his eyes. “I love it so much, Jack!”

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Jack said soothingly, pulling the now sobbing Crutchie into a hug. “What’s wrong? Why’re ya cryin’?”

“Because—” Crutchie choked out. “Because no one’s ever cared enough ta do this for me. No one’s ever cared enough ta waste their time an’ money makin’ my birthday special. But you have, and—” he broke off, collapsing into sobs once more.

“Of course I have!” Jack said. “You’s my best friend, an’ I wanted ta do somethin’ special for ya. An’ stop sayin’ I’m wastin’ things on ya. You’s worth every penny an’ every second I spent.”

“I thought Race was your best friend,” Crutchie said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“He’s been demoted ta second place,” Jack said. “Thing about Race is he starts ta get irritatin’ around three hours in. That’s why I don’t sell with him. But you, I could spend all day with you. There’s a reason why I let ya keep sellin’ with me. It ain’t outta pity, it’s cuz I like bein’ around you.”

“Really?” Crutchie asked.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Really.” Crutchie blushed.

“It’s late,” he said. “I should be gettin’ back down ta bed.”

“Wait,” Jack said. “I thought we could both sleep up here tonight. What’s the leg say? Gonna rain?” Crutchie shook his head.

“Not a chance,” he said.

“Good,” Jack said. “So whaddya say? Will ya sleep up here with me?” Crutchie smiled.

“Why not?” He replied. He snuggled close to Jack as the bigger boy wrapped his muscular arms around Crutchie’s slender waist. He sighed happily. He could get used to this.

 

Jack and Crutchie huddled underneath a bridge as rain poured down. Crutchie had said it was going to rain that day, but the skies had been such a beautiful bright blue that even Jack, who had a lot of faith in Crutchie’s predictions, had been doubtful. The blond boy had gotten the last laugh, however, because around mid-afternoon, clouds had started gathering. Jack and Crutchie had just made it under the bridge before the skies opened up. Crutchie was now poking Jack’s cheek. Jack swatted his hand away, but gently.

“I was right,” Crutchie said smugly. “My leg’s almost never wrong about the weather.”

“Hey, I trust your leg for the weather forecast,” Jack said.

“You didn’t today,” Crutchie said. He poked Jack’s cheek again. Jack grabbed Crutchie’s wrist.

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“Yeah I do,” Crutchie said. “I could see it in your face.”

“Oh, so the leg gives ya psychic powers, huh?” Jack teased.

“This gimp leg gives me all sorts a powers, Jack Kelly,” Crutchie said.

“Oh really?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, really,” Crutchie said. He poked at Jack’s cheek with his other hand, but Jack grabbed his other wrist. He grinned down at Crutchie.

“I gotcha now,” he said. “No escape for you!” Crutchie whined pathetically, trying to tug his wrists out of Jack’s grasp.

“Please, sir,” he begged. “Lemme go! I’m just a simple peasant boy!” Jack grinned, diving into Crutchie’s pretend world.

“With that face?” He said. “I don’t think so. You’s a prince.” Crutchie blushed.

“W-What?” He stammered. “No I ain’t! I’m just a peasant boy, honest!”

“Aw, don’t lie ta me your majesty,” Jack said. “Now, what ta do with you? I could hold ya for ransom, or I could kill ya, or…”

“Or what?” Crutchie asked. He was pretending to be terrified, but Jack could see he was about to collapse into giggles.

“Or I could keep ya for myself,” Jack finished. “Hold ya prisoner for the rest a your life. It’d be a pity ta let such a pretty face go.” He’d let go of Crutchie’s wrists now, one hand moving to tilt Crutchie’s chin up. Their lips met in soft, tender kiss, a kiss that made the rest of the world disappear. Jack grinned as they pulled apart. “No, I think I’m gonna keep ya,” he said. “Can’t let someone who’s that good at kissin’ slip through my fingers.” Crutchie giggled.

“Careful, ya evil bastard,” he warned. “You just might end up fallin’ in love with me.”

“Oh, I already fell in love with ya,” Jack said, dropping the act now. He kissed Crutchie again. “I fell in love with ya a long time ago. God, I love you, Crutchie Morris.”

“I love you too, Jack Kelly,” Crutchie said happily.

 

A warm summer breeze ruffled Crutchie’s hair as he and Jack cuddled on the rooftop. Crutchie sighed in relief as Jack’s large hands gently massaged his bum leg. He loved being up here with Jack, just the two of them, away from the chaos of the lodging house and the hustle and bustle of the city. Here, Jack didn’t have to be the tough, strong, angry leader of the Manhattan newsies. He didn’t have to worry about keeping everyone safe, or making enough money to feed himself and everyone else. He could just be Jack, and Crutchie loved it.

“Hey, happy birthday, Jackie,” he said. Jack looked down at him in surprise.

“How’d ya know it’s my birthday?” He asked. “I didn’t tell ya.”

“I asked Race,” Crutchie said.

“You didn’t get me anythin’, did ya?” Jack asked. “I told ya you wasn’t allowed ta get me anythin’.”

“‘Scuse you,” Crutchie said. “I remember someone who looked a lot like you tellin’ me I was exempt from the “everyone’s gotta listen ta Jack” rule. I don’t take advantage of it much, but this is one a these times that I am.” He reached over and grabbed a box, which contained a cupcake, chocolate with blue icing. “Figured we could share it, like we did with the one you got me.” Jack grinned. He dipped his finger in the icing and smeared it across Crutchie’s cheek. “Hey!” Crutchie said, laughing. He smeared icing on Jack’s nose. “How ‘bout we actually eat the cake instead a just playin’ with it?”

“Always gotta ruin my fun, dontcha?” Jack said.

“You know it,” Crutchie replied. They shared the cupcake, then Crutchie pulled out a small box wrapped in newspaper.

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

“Your birthday present, silly,” Crutchie said. “Miss Medda helped me get it for ya.” Jack took the box and opened it. Inside were four tubes of paint in red, yellow, blue, and white, along with a couple brushes. “I wasn’t able ta get any paper or anythin’,” Crutchie said. “But the fellow at the store said that this paint’s sometimes used by performers an’ such ta put on their bodies, so…”

“So you can be my canvas,” Jack said. Crutchie blushed. He’d assumed Jack would paint on his own arms or something. He hadn’t considered being used as the canvas himself.

“If ya want,” he said. “I dunno if I’d be a good canvas, though.”

“You’ll be the best canvas I’ve ever painted on,” Jack said. “C’mon, take off your shirt.” Crutchie smiled as Jack helped him strip to the waist. He lay on his stomach as Jack prepared his paints, using the lid of the cupcake box as a palette. Then Jack started to work, swirling soft brush strokes across Crutchie’s back. Crutchie sighed, loving the feeling of Jack’s brush on his skin. “An’... done,” Jack said finally. “Lay here for a moment an’ don’t move while I go grab somethin’, alright?”

“Alright,” Crutchie replied as Jack ran into the lodging house. He came back a couple minutes later with two mirrors.

“Here,” he said, handing one to Crutchie as he helped his lover to his feet. “One a the Bowery beauties taught me this trick ta see your back. Hold it out in front a you, an’ I’ll hold this one behind ya, an’ you can see what I painted.” Crutchie looked into the mirror as Jack got situated behind him, and gasped. His back had been transformed from a simple expanse of bare skin into a gorgeous desert landscape, with reds, pinks, oranges, and golds transforming into soft blues and purples as the sun set.

“Jack, it’s beautiful,” he said.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Jack replied. Crutchie blushed.

“That ain’t true, Jack,” he said.

“Yeah it is,” Jack said. “You’s the most beautiful thing in this world.”

“More beautiful than Santa Fe?” Crutchie asked.

“By far,” Jack said. He sketched Crutchie with the painting he’d done on his back using the newspaper the paint box had come wrapped in, making sure to put spots of color in the appropriate places so he could recreate the scene later. He pressed gentle kisses to Crutchie’s bare shoulders, causing Crutchie to sigh happily. Jack had never had any use for moonlight, yet the pale light on Crutchie’s creamy skin made him seem to glow ethereally, like he was a fairy prince. He’d never cared for sappy poetry, but when Crutchie woke up from a nightmare, Jack found himself reciting love poems to calm the smaller boy down. Love at first sight was for suckers. At least, it used to be, before Jack had met Crutchie. Sure, girls were nice, once or twice, but he’d found someone new. No, he’d never planned someone like Crutchie, but now he didn’t need anyone else.


End file.
